


Nine Days

by just_ann_now



Category: Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:18:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_ann_now/pseuds/just_ann_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine days that Richard and Alec would probably have rather done without, except for the one good thing that came of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdragon/gifts).



**On the first day,** it was just a long gash from Richard's shoulder to his elbow.

He laughed it off . "That was one lucky stroke for Nils Shortarm, wasn't it?"

"Not lucky enough, since you killed him anyway," Alec replied, helping him strip off the shirt. They left it with Marie to be laundered and mended.

Alec dabbed at the gash with brandy, then licked off the drops that ran down Richard's arm. "That tickles," Richard chuckled, wrestling him down on to the bed. It was always better, after he had killed someone.

 

 **On the second day,** the gash was red and puffy. Richard winced as he flexed out his arms and shoulders. Later, when they were at the fish market, an old man tripped over a clump of nets and buoys and stumbled against him.

"Ow!" Richard yelped, rubbing his shoulder gingerly. His fingers came away sticky. Alec sniffed at the spot. "Not good," he muttered.

"What's that there, then?" Auld Meggie, the fishwife, asked. "Summat wrong w'i your arm?"

"It's nothing," Richard said, turning away. Alec paid Meggie for the fish and hurried after him.

That evening Richard wasn't hungry, so Alec ate all of the fish himself.

 

 **On the third day,** Alec brought yesterday's shirt down to Marie and returned with a pot of hot vinegar.

"What the hell do you think you're going to do with that? " Richard growled.

"Bathe that gash with it. Marie says-"

"The hell you will."

Richard fought like a cat, but this time, Alec was the stronger. The wound was redder today, angrier looking, but at least it drained some under the application of the hot vinegar. Richard hissed with discomfort.

"I'd kiss it better, but..."

"No, that's quite all right," Richard grumbled. He went to bed early. Alec went out dicing.

 

 **On the fourth day,** Richard had a fever. "I don't feel like getting up. Don't you have any marketing or anything to do? Go fishing or something. Just leave me the hell alone. I'm tired."

Alec went to the market, but came back with only bread and smoked sausage and sour red wine. He hardly ate any, though; spent the day hunched up on the bed watching Richard's restless tossing. The grey cat came and curled up next to him. Alec stroked it absently.

Richard's hair was soaked with sweat and his skin looked drawn and sallow in the late afternoon light.  
It had been years since Alec had been to Chapel, dragged by his mother to endure endless diatribes on the wages of sin, but on this long gray afternoon, he was almost ready to pray. _I've never been one for touching in public, though I know he wanted to. I was cruel, always the one to pull away, but I swear by all the gods, if he lives, I don't care if he wants to fuck me in Justice Place at high noon on a Court day. He can touch me all he wants. He can wear me like a coat, I don't care. If he lives, I'll hold on to him and never let go._

 **On the fifth day,** Alec left Marie sitting with Richard and went to visit his grandmother.  
   
The Duchess was At Home, but Grayson had the good sense to put Alec in a small sitting room by himself. After one look at Alec's face, he departed silently and returned, not with chocolate and iced cakes but brandy, fruit and cheese.  
   
Alec took a long swig of brandy straight from the bottle. He sniffed at the cheese, then cut up several chunks of it and stuffed them into his pockets, along with some grapes and a pear.  
   
"Davey, what a lovely surprise!" Alec jumped at the Duchess's voice. "Isn't he feeding you at home?"  
   
"I need your help."  
   
"Of course you do. Why else do you ever come?"  
   
Alec ran his hands through his tangled hair. "Richard's ill. He needs a doctor, the very best in the City. You can get him for me."  
   
"Oh, my. Nothing too serious, I hope? Pity..." She gasped as Alec grabbed her arms. The pressure of his fingers left deep red welts on the fragile skin.  
   
"He is injured, he is very possibly dying, and I need the best doctor in the city, and I need him **now**."  
   
"You always ask so graciously," the Duchess said, pulling away. She went to the ivory-and-gilt desk, pulled out some ivory-and-gilt stationery, and began to write. She did not hurry; her handwriting was just as exquisite as ever. She folded the note into an envelope embossed with the swan crest. "Bring this to Hurley, down on Cyclamen Street."

"Hurley? He was a sot when I was a boy."

"No, that Hurley died. This is his son."

"Is he a sot as well?"

"He may be, but he's still the best in the city." She turned to Alec with a demure smile. "I've told him to bill whatever you need to Tremontaine House."

Alec snorted. "Well, his fees just doubled, I can tell. I don't need your charity; I can pay whatever he asks." He held up his hand where three jeweled rings gleamed. None of them was his Tremontaine ruby.

~*~

"It's putrid, all right," Hurley announced, holding a pomander to his nose. "You should have called me earlier. It'll have to come off. Do you have a footman or someone I can send for my saw?"

Alec snorted. "A footman? In Riverside? Are you insane? I can send a runner to your house, but that's no guarantee he won't steal your saw _and_ bugger your wife while he's there. Why the hell didn't you bring it?"

Richard began to stir. "Alec, hand me my dagger, the left-hand one," he murmured.

"Why? Are you going to cut it off yourself?" Hurley asked.

"No." Richard opened his eyes. "I'm going to stab you through the heart with it if you come one step closer. No one is taking off my arm."

"Richard...." Alec began.

"NO ONE. Do you not understand? The next person to touch my arm will be dead before he hits the floor," Richard gasped.

"Suit yourself," Hurley said, and was gone.

 

 **On the sixth day,** Marie, Rosalie, and Auld Meggie huddled with Alec around Richard's bed. Auld Meggie bent over, leaning on her stick, and sniffed at Richard's arm suspiciously.

"How about honey? Or chopped garlic? Sometimes those work. Or packing the wound with peppercorns..." Marie was saying.

"My mother swore by poultices of moldy bread We could try that," Rosalie suggested. "I probably have plenty in the kitchen."

"Piss on it," said Auld Meggie.

"That's exactly how I feel," Alec replied through gritted teeth, "but I thought they had dragged you along because they felt you might have something useful to contribute to the discussion."

"No, Alec, wait. I think she's right," Marie said slowly. "I remember once, when I was little, my grandmother's sister's husband, from Chartil, cut himself sheep shearing, and the cut turned foul. He had her collect his warm piss in a bowl, and made compresses with it. It had to be warm; once the compress was cold she took it off. He got right better."

"It sounds disgusting, but it's worth a try. And the garlic, and the peppercorns, and the moldy bread. We'll do it _all_. If you ladies will excuse me..." He picked up a bowl and went into the other room.

'I've got some petticoats on the line, let me go get them, for the compresses, " Marie said, hurrying downstairs.

Rosalie followed her. "I'll get the bread and the garlic. And the peppercorns."

"I'll stay here," announced Meggie, stretching out on the bed next to Richard. "Oh, this mattress feels good on my old bones. Move over, love, give me some room." Richard whimpered softly.

 **On the seventh day,** Richard woke up and murmured, "What is that stink? I swear by all the gods, Alec, if that cat of yours has..."

Alec opened his eyes and sat bolt upright, as if he had never been asleep at all. "You're awake, and sounding like your old, snarling self again. How pleasant. How do you feel?"

"You're usually the snarling one. I feel, better, I think. I'm thirsty." He looked at his arm and stretched it out experimentally.

"My arm feels sore, a bit stiff, but doesn't seem to hurt as much. Hadn't it been swollen?" He sniffed at it. "And why does it smell like garlic and peppercorns?"

 

 **On the eighth day,** Richard and Alec rested in bed. "He's fine, we're fine, go away," Alec shouted whenever anyone came and knocked on the door.

 **On the ninth day,** Richard sat in the courtyard in the sunshine. Alec went to the market and brought back good wine, excellent cheese, crisp pears, and ginger cakes. They called Marie, Rosalie, and Auld Meggie to join them. Richard poured the wine.

"To piss and vinegar!" Auld Meggie raised her glass. Everyone laughed except Richard. He would ask Alec later what that had meant.

Alec put his arm around Richard's shoulder, startling him so that he nearly dropped his glass. Alec brushed back Richard's hair, caressing his cheek, then kissed him on the forehead.

"To being alive!" he said, raising his glass.

**Author's Note:**

> Each of the folk remedies mentioned here - honey, garlic, moldy bread, peppercorns, urine - have been in use for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.


End file.
